


A Study in Kisses

by viajeramyra



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Aesthetic kisses, Kisses without plot, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Soulmate kisses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:55:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27657167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viajeramyra/pseuds/viajeramyra
Summary: 5 + 1 variations of first kisses (and maybe more) for Andrés and MartínRated for later chapters
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín Berrote
Comments: 6
Kudos: 53





	A Study in Kisses

Maybe there’s something in the way sunlight breaks through from the small, square window, lighting their path with little shadows. Or perhaps it is the view of Asinelli Tower highlighted with golden rays, the blue sky stretching their view for miles. It certainly could be the rolling hills surrounding Bologna, an all serene setting adding to the silence encompassing the room. Whatever it may be, Andrés knows there’s only one thing to do. 

His hand finds the groove of Martín’s arm, and the simple touch excites every nerve in his fingers. Heat pulses through him as he turns the man around, pulling him closer in one swift spin. His friend opens his mouth, eyebrows raised, eyes inquisitive, wondering what Andrés wants. But words are unnecessary when actions speak so boldly. 

His hands find Martín’s shoulders next, pressing him against the open wooden window door. Andrés sees his intentions click in Martín’s head as cerulean eyes darken with unkempt desire and strong hands nervously find his hips. The magnetic pull of a resounding ” _please_ , _”_ commands Andrés next. His hands cup Martín’s cheeks, drawing their lips together in a phantom kiss. 

Kaleidoscopes of color burst before Andrés’ eyes with the faintest touch. Hues of burgundy pop amongst the rest, and his mouth moves harder, deeper against Martín’s. The hands on his hips draw Andrés closer, as their bodies click like missing puzzle pieces. The stillness of the room is broken up with the pounding sound of his heartbeat, accelerating against the bobble in his neck. 

Next are the greens, as fingers curl in the small of his back. His tongue drags, inch by inch, along Martín’s bottom lip. With every move Andrés makes, nails press against the silk of his shirt, ever careful not to harm the fabric. He might encourage Martín to discard the thing, if not for his unwillingness to speak. Opening his mouth meant breaking this kiss, and the growling beast, already addicted and aching for more, refuses to release. Instead, his tongue dips in Martín’s mouth, and they both moan at the new exploration. 

Blue pops behind Andrés’ eyelids, never quite finding the same beauty of Martín’s eyes. He snakes his fingers through the man’s hair now, tender and passionate with all the richness of bold lovers before them. To hell with anyone else. Their kisses will never compare to anything Andrés will do with his man. His teeth slip against Martín’s tongue, before trailing to the exposed line of skin of his neck. Blessed be the v shaped cut his friend favored on warm summer days. 

“ _Andrés,”_ Martín hums, like a clandestine prayer, singing his praises. It’s bewitching in nature and deserving of equal worship. His lips are under the strong round of Martín’s jaw now, and _oh_ , the way he trembles threatens to drag Andrés to his knees. True, the effect he holds over Martín speaks of desire — but something far more satisfying is peeled back with every layer he uncovers. 

Teeth and tongue soothe and tease Martín’s neck, and Andrés sees black when the smell of cologne rising from the man’s clothes fills his nose. Cinnamon and cardamom hit first, before the underbody of oak quickly follows. There’s no denying he’s _kissing a man_ now; but Andrés doesn’t care. Hallow be Martín’s name, blessed be their kiss. 

It’s his turn now to sigh as Martín’s fingers drum against the nape of his neck, palm flat to keep him in place. As if his mouth would move, even if God or the Devil himself commanded it. The connection with Martín is too hot and heady, a fire already consuming his mortal soul. Nothing else could offer such sweetness or destroy him with its wickedness. It’s every wrong and right of Heavenly demands as his teeth finally puncture milky skin. 

“Fuck,” Martín cries in elation and possessiveness floods through Andrés. His own breathlessness breaks his adoration; his head dips against the center of Martín’s chest, lips parted and panting. 

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired because of this photo https://mostlyitaly.tumblr.com/post/142134015200/window-view-on-bologna-emilia-romagna-italy


End file.
